


The Days

by Scriptor_Bellum



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, False Identity, Female Reader, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Homeless Stan Pines, Homelessness, I appreciate that the tag immediately before this one is a thing because boy does he, I hope y'all love it too, Mild Smut, Mullet Stan Pines, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan picks up a young lady in need of help on the side of the highway on his way to meet Ford, Strangers to Lovers, Young Stan Pines, anyway this will eventually transition to older Stan and an older reader so keep y'all eyes peeled, cis female reader, good thing she was going to Gravity Falls anyway, he needs someone to be there for him, probably gonna get fairly dark but probably not too much darker than the show, sooooooo that's you!, things get very complicated very fast, this is going to be a delight to write I can just tell from the first chapter I'm loving it, we'll see though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scriptor_Bellum/pseuds/Scriptor_Bellum
Summary: Every car passes you by, but finally, this kind stranger stops to see if he can help you.He has a messy mullet and a concerned shine in his eyes and it turns out the two of you are going the same way; to a little town called Gravity Falls.He looks at you with that smile of his. It’s crooked and genuine and nervous, and you realize you don’t have a chance.
Relationships: Stan Pines/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 97





	1. Highway Don't Care

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess Threes isn't my only multi-chapter Gravity Falls fic anymore...
> 
> But I'm happy about that! I love Stan and Ford both SO much, like, holy fuck how is healthy for me to be crushing on two strange old men who are like twice my age ahhhhahaha, but, I love them. I actually fell for Ford first, way back when, but you know what? Stan has a special place in my heart.
> 
> So I really, really wanted to write something long with him, even though I have absolutely no business starting any more fics, oops...
> 
> Anyway, I planned on this chapter being a little longer, but then I figured it would be easy to split up, and where I ended it just felt natural like 'ok girl this is where this chapter SHOULD end' ahahaha
> 
> Alright, welp, I'm gonna let the fic speak for itself from this point, but please mind the tags! And please, please do comment if you liked it, because that helps keep me going!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

_when will I feel this  
as vivid as it truly is?  
fall in love with a single touch,  
and fall apart when it hurts too much?  
can we skip past near-death cliches  
where my heart restarts as my life replays?  
all I want is to flip a switch  
before something breaks that cannot be fixed  
I know, I know ― the sirens sound  
just before the walls come down  
pain is a well-intentioned weatherman  
predicting God as best he can  
but, God, I want to feel again._

―Sleeping At Last, “Touch”

* * *

It’s fortunate that, so far, this is the only time your car has rolled over and died on you.

It’s infinitely less fortunate that it picks the dead of winter to do so.

What’s least lucky of all, you think as you try (and fail) to flag down another passing car, is that _nobody_ wants to stop. Every car that’s driven by so far has declined to stop. Some of them slow down a bit as if curious before going right on through; some of them zip by without even noticing you.

You want to get back into the car instead of standing out here freezing your ass off, but given that the car’s not running, it’s no warmer in there than it is out here. At least standing out here attempting to get people’s attention might mean you’ll get some help.

Of course, nobody’s stopping, so you’re not really sure what else to do. Show some leg? Ugh, no. You’re not quite that desperate.

When the next car passes by, though, you lean against the door with a thud and cover your face. God, you want to cry. How are you supposed to get out of this mess? According to the directions you stopped for, the town you’re looking for is still ten miles away. You can’t walk ten miles under normal conditions, let alone through a ton of snow in subzero temperatures.

Suddenly, the car that just drove by ― a cherry-red El Diablo that’s kind of banged up but still gorgeous ― backs up to park in front of you. As soon as you look up to notice that, your heart swells. Is someone really stopping to help you? The thought that someone has at last taken pity on you makes you want to cry even more.

The door opens, and out steps a man who’s around your age, dressed kind of sloppily, with a clear expression of sympathy on his face. He has tired eyes and a brown mullet that falls past his shoulders. The jacket he’s wearing is nowhere near warm enough for this weather, and looks a size too small for him, but it’s zipped up regardless. It looks as if he hasn’t shaved in a few days or a week or so; he’s very scruffy, but there’s a certain charm about him.

You can hear his boots crunch in the snow as he walks toward you. “Hey, you, uh… you need a hand there, doll?” His voice is rough, and his almost gentle tone doesn’t match it.

“Y-yes! Please!” You can feel tears starting to form out of sheer relief. Someone is here, offering you the help that the past stretch of time has seen you so desperately been begging for. You’re lucky you don’t have hypothermia and your fingers aren’t frostbitten.

“Whoa, whoa, okay, uh… geez. How long ya been out here?” He looks flighty, unsure, like this is the kind of thing he absolutely never does. That he hasn’t run for the safety of his car and peeled back onto the highway is promising.

Your shivering should speak for itself. “L-like… I dunno, fifteen, twenty minutes? N-nobody would stop…”

“No kiddin’? Nobody wants to, uh… help a… p… pretty girl like you out? I don’t… uh, I don’t believe that, y’know? Heh.” Oh, wow. One might think he was the one stranded in the snow with the way he’s started stuttering. Honestly, bless his heart. He seems like he’s just trying to keep you at ease. “Well, uh… you know if it’s… the engine or a tire or… what?”

You shake your head. “I-I don’t really know anything about cars. But, um, i-it won’t even start, so… engine, probably?”

He nods, walking over to pop the hood. “Yeah, sounds like. Lemme, uh, lemme take a look. I ain't half bad with cars, s-so, uh…”

“Y-yeah, please! Thank you so much!” You shift from one foot to the other a few times, still cold as hell, then speak up again. “Um, my name’s (Name).”

The way he looks at you is as if you’re a snake ready to bite him if he gives his name. After a moment, his muscles relax and he replies, still looking a bit frazzled, “Uh… Ste―aaaa―anley. I’m, uh, I’m Stanley.”

The way he introduces himself would probably send up red flags for anyone else. You, on the other hand, you just smile gratefully. You’re pretty sure he’s just got that jittery nature and his nerves are getting the better of him. That’s all.

“Stanley. It’s nice to meet you.”

* * *

As it turns out, Stanley lets you know that your car’s engine needs a couple of parts. He doesn’t think he can fix it well enough to get you anywhere safely.

Thankfully, he lets you know (a little sheepishly) that he’d be happy to let you ride with him to the next town so you can get some parts. Since you have no other option except to walk, and Stanley is clearly a nice guy who just wants to help you out, you climb inside his car after putting your things in the backseat. There’s more room than you thought there might be, because in the backseat is… not much. Several granola bar wrappers and potato chip bags among a couple of thin blankets and a duffel bag that looks to have some clothes in it. You hate to take up so much room in his car, but it’s not like there’s a lot in here anyway, and even though you locked your own car, the idea of leaving all your personal stuff in there while you find a mechanic doesn’t sit well with you.

“You’re like an angel,” you laugh as you buckle yourself up. The car starts to move, and you notice that Stanley’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled. Yikes. The poor guy’s apparently wound pretty tight. “I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t come along!”

His eyes dart over toward you, giving a smile of his own that reads as anxious. “Ah, ‘s… not a big deal. You needed help, so I did the decent thing. Only a jerk would just leave a girl stranded on the side’a the road. I’m just, uh… sorry about… y’know… the smell. It kinda reeks in here, I mean. I’ve, uh, I’ve been on the road for like a week. Didn’t have the money for a motel, so… I kinda just been… sleepin’ in the car, washin’ off at rest stops… ‘s probably at least as gross as it feels. Maybe more. I just, uh… sorry about that.”

You shake your head. True, it doesn’t exactly smell like roses in here; it sounds like he’s going through some hard times, though, so you would’ve been fine to just not mention it at all. “Honestly, I’d rather be in a sort of warm car that’s a little stinky than breathing fresh air that freezes my lungs. If it makes you feel better,” you add, “this barely cracks the top ten. My ex-boyfriend’s feet smelled worse than this.”

That gets a laugh out of him, and this time, it’s a little more comfortable than that terse little chuckle he’s been giving. “Hey, you’re not a bad liar. Sounded pretty convincing. Where ya comin’ from, anyway?”

“Oh…” You glance out the window at the whiteness blurring past. “Let’s just say I’m a long way from home… looking for a new one.”

He falls quiet, and when you look over, he’s got this thoughtful, impossible to read look in his eyes. “Hey, uh… me too.”

“Yeah? Where are you coming from?”

“Uhhh, New Mexico. I was, uh… livin’ in a crappy little motel, then I… got a postcard from my brother, askin’ me to come see him. Figured I ain’t got a lot t’ lose, y’know? Haven’t seen him in a while, so…”

Huh, that’s… interesting. Stanley and his brother haven’t seen each other in what sounds like a long time, yet he drops everything and decides to drive at least a thousand miles because of one postcard? “Aww. Well, I hope you guys have a nice visit.”

“Yeah… yeah, me, too. Like I said, it’s… it’s been a while, and people change, and… y’know what I mean?” He’s tense again, his eyes focused on the road as if looking over at you even for a second will lead to a crash or something. “Hey, so, uh… by the way, where ya headed? Got much longer to go after you get your car fixed up?”

“Me? No, no. Actually, the next town is ― Gravity Falls, right?” You shift a little in your seat. Whether it’s a good place to start over or not, you won’t be able to say without trying to live there. “That’s where I’m going. I stopped for directions, and someone told me about it, and… it just seemed like a nice place. So once we get there, that’s, um, I’m gonna try to find an apartment or something.”

He glances over at you for half a second now, eyes wide, and this tiny beginning of a smile trying to poke at his lips. “Heh… hey, hey, uh, you’re not shittin’ me, are ya? That’s where my brother lives. ‘S where I’m goin’.”

When you process that information, you let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, my God! Small world! Hey, maybe it’s, like, destiny or something that my car broke down! Like we were, ahh… fated to meet or something!”

That snort he gives, though it shows what he thinks of the idea, is very… real. He’s not just pretending to find your comment funny or unfunny. This is his true reaction to you and what you’re saying. It’s been some time since you’ve encountered someone who isn’t just pretending one way or the other to impress you. “Destiny engine trouble, huh? Dunno if I’m buyin’ that one.

“Well, I’d buy it. It’s a little more comforting than thinking I just have really bad luck.” You glance out the window again, and then reach over to pat his shoulder. “Oh, hey, hey! Speaking of buying things, there’s a truck stop over there! Why don’t we stop and get something to eat before we head into town? I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and something on a plate sounds a lot better than a pack of pretzels at a rest stop.”

“Oh, uh…” Stanley falters again. It’s like either the idea of stopping or the idea of getting food bothers him. “I’m, uh… I’m not really hungry, but if you want somethin’, uh… sure, we can make a quick stop. ‘S not like there was any particular day or time I hafta be at my brother’s.”

The car slows down, and he pulls into the truck stop’s parking lot. Your eyes roam back to the empty food packages dotting the backseat floor, and the single cup of coffee in the cup holder that went cold a long time ago.

That stuff is all junk food, but it’s inexpensive, and it strikes you as the kind of thing people buy when they need cheap food that doesn’t require cooking. The coffee being cold with Stanley still sipping at it, that seems to be an attempt at making it last as long as possible without buying more.

And he did say he hasn’t had enough money for a hotel stay at any point during the drive from New Mexico all the way up here to Oregon. Although it crossed your mind before that he’s fallen on hard times, you didn’t dwell on the fact that he’s having _serious_ money problems.

For the first time, it hits you like a ton of bricks.

He very well could have less than $20 to his name, let alone in his pocket.

That he’s willing to stop here just to sit and watch you eat something when he’s likely starving is incredible to you.

You wonder, would he even allow you to buy him something, or would he flat-out not accept a handout? He doesn’t seem like an overly prideful person, but even so, it still might make him feel embarrassed.

“Um, hey,” you start, gently moving your hand to his forearm. “Are you sure? Because, I mean, if you _are_ hungry… I owe you for giving me a ride.”

A dusting of light pink spreads over his cheeks, and he does this thing like he’s trying to pull the hood of his jacket up around his face. “You, uh… you don’t owe me nothin’. Like I said, I was just doin’ the decent thing.”

You tilt your head. This man is a mystery.

Good thing you love mysteries.

“Okay, so, I don’t owe you. If you want something to eat, then just consider it… _me_ doing the decent thing. I don’t wanna step over any boundaries or anything, like, I don’t know you or what’s going on in your life, but it… just seems like a nice hot meal would do wonders for you right now.”

He hunches over, scratching at the stubble on the side of his face. He just looks so conflicted, your heart almost breaks for him. Like he definitely wants to accept, but something’s stopping him. “Listen, uh… (Name)… you’re a real great gal and all. I appreciate it. It’s just… I mean… you’re sweet, and I don’t wanna take advantage of that, y’know?”

You laugh softly, “How is it taking advantage when I’m the one who offered?”

“Ah, geez.” He lets his head fall into his hands. “Cmon, toots, no one wants t’ buy lunch for a stranger _this_ bad.”

That gives you pause. You contemplate his words for a moment, then reach over and gingerly pull his hands away from his face. “Okay, then we’re not strangers. We’re friends. And I’m more than happy to buy lunch for my good friend Stanley… uh…”

There’s that genuine laugh of his again, coupled with a look that’s bewildered, relieved, and about to cry all rolled into one. He looks at you with that smile of his. It’s crooked and genuine and nervous, and you realize you don’t have a chance.

“… Pines. Your, uh… your good friend Stanley Pines.”


	2. when can I see you again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have lunch with Stanley, then drop him off at his brother's place. His brother is... maybe not quite what you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW took me long enough to get a new chapter of this out, huh? I actually had this sitting in the document for months, nearly done, but without the last few paragraphs to lead out.
> 
> Thankfully, this might have been a good decision, because I love the way I ended this chapter. >:D
> 
> My head has been in other fandoms lately, but rest assured that my thirst for the Stans has not diminished! Now go forth and love on this precious man! <3

When the two of you sit down inside, Stanley shies away from the waitstaff. He tells you to order for him, something simple, before heading to the bathroom. You stop him for just a second to ask if he’s allergic to anything, but the comment he gives you (“Y’ mean, like… flowers and shit?”) makes you feel a little safer picking something for him.

You’re pretty sure it’s because he doesn’t want to order something that’s ‘too much’ even though he’s probably insanely hungry. Seems like he’s just as concerned with crossing boundaries as you are.

While he’s gone, you take a look through the menu and decide there’s nothing wrong about getting him a burger with fries and a soda. It’s a classic combo for a reason, right? After some thought, you order for yourself, then ask the waitress if it’s possible to get a coffee in a to-go cup delivered to the table only after the two of you have finished eating.

It’s not your business to explain that you’re basically taking pity on this guy, so thankfully, she doesn’t seem to think this is a strange request.

When Stanley gets back and you let him know what you ordered, the smile he gave you earlier turns into a full-blown grin. He says the last time he had a _real burger_ was so long ago he doesn’t even remember what it tastes like. He just looks so happy, as if that’s what he would have ordered for himself.

In between bites of food, the two of you have a genuine conversation. You discover that his brother’s name is Stanford, that he has six fingers on each hand, and that they’re twins. That takes you by surprise considering he also says they haven’t talked to each other in about ten years. Aren’t twins supposed to be super close? Like even closer than siblings who aren’t twins?

You know you shouldn’t really pry into his past, but you figure if he doesn’t want to answer, he’ll tell you, or it’ll be obvious so you’ll know to retract the question. You just have to ask why they haven’t spoken in _that_ long.

He gets a little somber, and it’s pretty clear that he’s reliving a bad memory. He just shakes his head then, saying that he made a stupid mistake, then Stanford blew up at him, and their father kicked Stanley out of the house.

Even though he doesn’t mention it, you know that Stanley must have still been in high school when he got kicked out. A guy around your age who hasn’t had any contact with his family in ten years? He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen back then. How could anyone do that to their kid, regardless of what exactly he’d done? As long as he didn’t, like, murder someone, there was no way he deserved to be basically disowned.

What’s good is that Stanley shows himself very capable of steering things in another direction once he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He asks about you ― what it’s like in your hometown, what you do for work, if you have any brothers or sisters. You’re ready with honest answers, since he was brave and kind enough to open up a little to you.

Neither of you push too far, but you actually get to know each other a little bit.

Throughout lunch, you’re blown away by just how attractive you find this guy. His hair is long and greasy, there are stains all over his clothes, and he seems to switch quickly from confident to timid. You wonder how much of that is real confidence. He mentions he’s a kind of traveling salesman, so it seems like he’s a good actor, maybe even a little sleazy.

He shouldn’t be your type. He shouldn’t be _anyone’s_ type.

There’s just something about him. He’s cute in this kind of messy puppy dog way, and he’s undeniably a sweet guy who’s just been put through the wringer.

When the coffee arrives as you’re getting ready to leave, and you hand it to Stanley, saying you noticed the one in the car was ice-cold, he actually ducks his head away to hide the fact that his face has contorted in that _oh-shit-_ _you’re-being-too-nice-and-_ _I’m-gonna-_ _fucking-_ _cry_ way.

It’s crazy to you that something so small as a cup of hot coffee that he wasn’t expecting brings tears to his eyes.

At first you weren’t sure about whether or not he’s actually not talked to his family in years. This, however, cements it as true. That kind of reaction only comes from a person who hasn’t had anyone to take care of or look out for him in a long, long time.

As you two get back into the car, you take a small chance and tell him that you like his hair.

His face turns pink again, but that grin also settles back on it. He says something to the effect of, _“You don’t think it’s too long?”_ and you say you kind of like long hair on a guy.

By the time you’re back on the road, he’s managed to stutter out that he likes your hair, too.

* * *

Neither you nor Stanley know the layout of Gravity Falls in any capacity, except for Stanford’s address. And since you didn’t pass a mechanic on the way, he thinks it might be best to see if his brother knows where the local garage is.

When he pulls into the strip of land that passes itself off as a driveway, the two of you are a bit befuddled by Stanford’s house. It looks more like a shack than anything, albeit a big shack, and there are several signs planted in the ground as well as on the door. **STAY OUT!** one in the yard reads. On the door, a nailed board says, **NO TRESPASSING!**

Either Stanford is secretly a crotchety old man who wants kids to stay off his lawn, or something very weird is going on here.

You glance at Stanley to see if this is normal, but the look on his face lets you know that paranoia is not a part of his brother’s usual personality, at least not to the degree evidenced by these signs.

The two of you get out of the car wordlessly, approaching the building. You can only imagine the kinds of things that are running through Stanley’s mind right now. As you step up onto the porch, you look at him again. “Is it… okay that I come in? I hate to say it, but your brother… seems… I mean, I don’t think he really likes visitors. He’s probably expecting just you.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I’m ― I’m sure it’s okay.” You don’t know who he’s saying that for more; you or himself. His entire being is practically radiating an anxiety so strong you’re surprised he doesn’t puke over the porch railing. “Besides, it’s not like you’re stickin’ around, right? You’re in, you get directions, you, uh… walk over to the mechanic… never see either of us again.”

You give a soft hum as you consider those words. Sure, you and Stanley only just met today… but you did start to talk some, and you don’t want to just go off and never see him again. “I hate to phrase it like this, but, not right, Stanley.” You put your hand on his arm, close to his wrist. A bit more friendly than his shoulder, not quite so forward as holding his hand.

“Listen, I know it’s weird, and you can tell me to back off if you’re not into it, but I’d really like to get to know you better. You seem like a good guy who’s just having a little trouble. I mean, you stopped to help me when everyone else just kept driving, even though… you probably have less to spare than every single person who drove by me.” You give him a smile. “I’d love to keep in touch if you’d be up for that.”

That look he gives you is so hard to decipher. Even so, it’s strikingly similar to the one he gave you when you offered to buy him lunch. Like he’s silently at war with himself over what he should do. Like he can’t believe someone would show him such kindness. “Y… you, uh… you’re serious? You’re not just pullin’ my leg?”

He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “You’re cute and nice and you have this unbelievable smile and… and, me? I-I mean, I don’t own any clothes that don’t have stains on ‘em, I haven’t showered in over a week, I have like fifty cents in my pocket… I… sweet Moses, (Name), _I’ve got a mullet!_ The fuck could you possibly see in someone like me?”

“Well… you’re nice, too. And, for the record, you have a pretty unbelievable smile yourself. You just have this look in your eyes…” You give his arm a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to answer me right this second. This isn’t coming with any kind of… strings or promises or anything like that, either. I just think there… _might_ be something there, you know what I mean? Seems like we kinda click a little. Maybe I just… wanna see if we keep clicking.”

Finally, you draw your hand away, though you’re still smiling at him. “Like I said, it’s your call, and I wouldn’t blame you if you’re not interested.”

“I-I am!” He blurts that out entirely too fast, and his face goes read all the way to the tips of his ears. But he doesn’t take it back. “I… I’m sorry, I just… I’m not used to people sayin’ they… _wanna_ get to know me. Most people don’t even like admitting that they knew me. I… I’ve never really… I mean, I had a coupla girlfriends in high school and all, but… I really ain’t had any kinda relationship in a long time. I ain’t even had _friends_ in a long time. It’s ― just, I mean ― I didn’t―”

“Hey, hey, Stanley. Listen, we’ll take it slow, right? If you’re interested. We’ll start with being friends. Which,” you add with a grin, “I think you said we already are! We’ll work up to anything else, if it turns out there’s something there. No pressure on either of us, okay?”

He nods slowly, and eventually, smiles back at you. It’s this shy little smile and it’s so endearing you don’t even know what to do with yourself. He’s so adorable. “That… that sounds real nice. I, uh… I-I think I’d like that.”

You pat his arm a few times, reassuringly. Going slow is probably for the best anyway. “It might be a little hard to stay in touch with you moving around a lot, but… do you have any plans after this? Like, are you gonna stay here or head somewhere else?”

“Oh, geez… I… I dunno. Hadn’t really thought that far ahead, y’know?” One hand scratches the back of his neck, his brow furrowing as he thinks about that. “Not sure Stanford would want me hangin’ around, but then again, I still don’t know if this is a ‘hey-I-wanna-talk-and-maybe-start-fixing-things-between-us’ visit or a ‘hey-turns-out-I-want-somethin’-from-you’ visit.”

Well, that’s true. Although you’re planning to stay here and make a new life, the only reason Stanley came here is to visit his brother. He might be back on the road by tonight or in the next few days. If you’re not sure where he’s going, if even he’s not sure where he’s going, that’s going to make things difficult. “Hopefully it’ll be the first one. Maybe… maybe you could just stick around a few days, at least? That way, I can get set up in an apartment, and when you leave, you’ll have my address and phone number. Then you can always call me or send a letter; I’m probably going to kind of set up shop here, so even if I don’t know exactly where you are, you’ll always know where I am.”

You finally let go of his arm, then give an amendment, “Of course, that’s assuming you don’t… set up shop here, too. Whether or not you and Stanford start to work things out, there’s nothing that says you can’t stay in Gravity Falls.”

Stanley looks like he wants to stay something, but then he just gives a half-hearted shrug. You hope that means he’s at least going to consider that. All wishing aside, you’re not quite sure what’s going on in his head. “Yeah, we’ll see. I like your idea of what t’ do if I head off, so, that’ll be the plan if I don’t stay. Tell ya what, you’re gonna stay at the local hotel for tonight, aren’tcha?”

“Yeah, probably for a few days. Just to have a bed and all until I find an apartment or something.”

“Okay, so. How about I’ll stop by later, like… maybe around eight? I’ll just tell ‘em I’m there t’ see you, you can come down t’ the lobby, and we can talk. I’ll tell you where my head’s at an’ what I think I’m gonna do, okay? And we’ll, uh… we’ll… go from there?”

A giggle bubbles up from your throat. Why does he have to be so… precious? “Hey, that’s a good idea! That sounds great. If you wanna stop by a little earlier, you can, too. We can go to whatever restaurant the hotel has and I’ll treat you to some dinner.”

“Ah, fuck, she wants t’ feed me again,” he laughs, looking as if he can’t believe what he just heard. His face is actually even redder now. “I’m not lettin’ ya do that, (Name)! Don’t want _you_ goin’ broke, too.”

You roll your eyes. “Please, I think I can take the hit. What, are you gonna deny me the joy of buying my friend another hot meal when all he’s been eating is Moritos and Saturn bars?”

“Listen, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Though he’s almost certainly not going to let this go, he seems to drop it for the moment under the clearly false assumption that you’ll forget about it or he thinks he’s won. Joke’s on him! “Before you buy _anything_ else, we gotta find out where the mechanic is so you can get your car fixed.”

With that, he raises his hand to knock on the door of Stanford’s house, then hesitates. The two of you were almost bantering before ― now he looks practically frozen in place. The look in his eyes is something heavy, panicked, the shine someone gets right before saying, _“Oh, God, oh, fuck, I can’t do this, I can’t do this!”_ and running off.

This is when you put your hand on his shoulder. A quiet, careful gesture of encouragement to let him know that he can take his time, it’s okay, he _can_ do this even though it’s probably terrifying.

“Okay,” he sighs, seeming to be talking mostly to himself now, “you haven’t seen your brother in ten years. It’s ― it’s okay. He’s family. He won’t bite.”

You squeeze his shoulder like you did his arm a moment ago, moving toward the other side of the door. You’re not sure whether Stanford will be upset to see that Stanley has company, but even if not, it’s better that he sees only Stanley at first. “It’s okay,” you repeat. Giving him as much emotional support as you can while you’re here can’t hurt, can it?

That combined with his own thoughts appears to be enough to push him into his next action. He knocks on the door, twice, and stands there practically frozen, clutching his bag over his shoulder so hard that you’re sure his knuckles are stark white under his gloves.

The space is only a few seconds, and yet, he raises his hand to knock again. “Maybe he’s sleeping and didn’t hear you knock?” Despite being unsure, it’s sad to think Stanley seems to jump to being almost desperate if Stanford doesn’t answer immediately. “Or maybe he’s upstairs and it might take him a minute to come to the door. Or maybe―”

Suddenly, the door opens. It’s just a crack at first, then a little more, revealing a man who’s most certainly Stanley’s twin… holding what looks like some sort of crossbow. It would be funny if it weren’t so startling; given that they look so similar, it looks almost like he’s pointing the weapon at a reflection of himself.

It’s nothing compared to what he says when he speaks, though.

“Who is it?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!”

― _Or maybe_ Stanford has gone completely insane.

To his credit, as soon as the door opens further with his brother aiming what’s effectively an arrow gun at his face, Stanley takes a step back. His eyes widen, his arm comes up to instinctively shield his chest, and for a second he looks truly afraid. After a moment, the shock of that is apparently nothing compared to the fear he was feeling about what was going happen today. Within a couple of heartbeats worth of time, his face shifts into something irritated instead of frightened. “… Well, I can always count on _you_ for a warm welcome.”

Honestly, this is… unthinkable. Stanley said Stanford sent him a postcard, so the other man is clearly thinking lucidly to some degree. But someone who answers the door with a weapon pointed at someone on the other side obviously doesn’t have all their marbles.

While his attention is focused on Stanley, you get a semi-good look at Stanford. He’s dressed possibly a little better than his brother, with a trench coat over a button-down shirt and nice pants. He’s even wearing a tie, though it’s halfway undone. On the other hand, his clothes are rumpled, his hair looks disheveled, he’s got more stubble on his face than Stanley does, and there are dark bags under his eyes. His overall demeanor reads as someone who hasn’t slept in several days. (And frankly, ‘a few days’ is being generous.)

When Stanley talked to you over lunch, he mentioned that Stanford is a very smart person. He said he’d been keeping up as much as he could with news, and he saw that Stanford has several PhD degrees. Stanley said he was always a bit awkward socially, not very strong in the physical sense, but is an intelligent, well-put-together man.

The guy standing inside this house does not strike you as well put-together. Yet Stanley recognizes him as his twin brother.

What the hell is going on here?

As soon as Stanford comes to the realization that it’s his brother standing on his porch and not someone who’s come to steal his eyes ― what’s _that_ about, anyway? ― he bends to set the crossbow down inside the house. “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?” He leans out just a little, looking to the right before switching to the left.

“Eh, hello to you, too, pal.” Stanley, for his part, looks less than impressed, though evidently it takes a lot to rattle him when it comes to Stanford. Even this isn’t doing it.

Not wanting to make it seem like you’re trying to hide, which would likely only fuel Stanford’s paranoia, you step fully out from behind the door. “Um, hi… Stanford, right? I’m (Name).”

“Yeah, and you, toots,” Stanley scoffs, “I wouldn’t blame ya if you ran for the hills right now.”

Stanford’s face contorts in a mixture of disbelief and fear when he sees you. “You brought _your girlfriend_ with you?!”

That sure gets everything else forgotten for a split second; you and Stanley both blush hard enough to make a tomato jealous. “Hey, she’s not my ― I mean, not that I’m, y’know, _offended_ by that idea or somethin’ ― just ― I don’t ― I’m not―”

“W-we just met today, is what he’s saying!” you manage to get out. “M-my car broke down on the highway, and since I was coming to Gravity Falls anyway, Stanley gave me a lift into town. I, um, I wouldn’t have come along here, except we didn’t find the―”

Before either of you can say another word, you’re both pulled inside. You hear Stanley cry out in surprise as you’re let go, then out of nowhere, a bright light is shined into your eyes one at a time. In the midst of it, you catch a glimpse of Stanford’s hands, and there are the six fingers Stanley mentioned. You might not notice it in any other interaction. Up close and personal to your face, however, the so-called defect is hard to miss even with a flash of light stunning you.

“Ah!” you squeak, snapping your eyes shut.

Once the light is gone you start rubbing them in an attempt to get your vision back to normal. While you’re blinking yourself back into reality, you can hear Stanley. “Hey, what is this?! You try’na blind the girl or somethin’, Poindexter?! What’s the big idea?!”

“Sorry!” Stanford raises one hand in defense. “I just had to make sure you weren’t―” He cuts himself off quickly, and you find yourself wondering exactly how he was going to finish that sentence. Whatever it was, does he mean just you, or both you and Stanley? This is so… weird. You’re mostly going by Stanley, and he just seems annoyed, not really too concerned, so it should be okay. “… Ah, it’s nothing. Come in, come in.”

You glance toward Stanley, and he just follows Stanford into the house. “Um, excuse me, Stanford,” you speak up before anything else happens. “I know you guys need to talk, so I’m happy to give you your privacy… which it, uh, seems like you value anyway. Like I said, my car broke down on the highway, but we didn’t see the local mechanic on the way here. You, um, wouldn’t happen to know where that is, do you? As soon as I know where it is, I’ll be out of your guys’ hair.”

Stanford as he appears to you is the picture of a very stressed, tired, frazzled man. The way he looks at you is strange; as if he’s looking right through you, trying to find any possible hint that you’re being anything less than completely transparent. He thinks you might be lying or manipulating or something. “It’s… a 5-minute walk from here to town, then the mechanic is a block over. Can’t miss it. Now, Stanley―”

“What’s goin’ on, anyway?” Stanley speaks up. “You’re actin’ like Mom after her tenth cup of coffee.”

“On that note,” you smile, “I should get going and let you boys talk. Thank you for the directions, Stanford. I really appreciate it.” You set a hand on Stanley’s arm, squeezing like before, to wish him luck. “And thank _you_ for the ride, Stanley. We’re on for dinner, right?”

His focus shifts from Stanford to you again for a brief moment. His face is pink again, and he doesn’t seem like he knows what to say in front of his brother. “I-I, uh, I mean… I… I guess? I-I, uh, definitely… wanna get t’ know you better. So. Dinner. I guess.”

You nod, heading off toward the door. Even though Stanley could definitely use the support, this is kind of a private talk. Besides, you don’t want to make Stanford any more tense than he already is. “Dinner it is. I’ll see you later, then, and it was nice to meet you, Stanford!”

You don’t expect to get a response from him, so you’re not surprised or hurt when you don’t, and as you shut the door, you can hear the two of them starting to talk.

For a long moment, you press your back against the door, allowing your eyes to focus on the snow falling down. It’s a blizzard, maybe, but it’s also kind of beautiful.

Finally you start to walk; the sooner you get the parts so you can fix your car, the sooner you can actually sort of settle in this town. One last look at the house is a silent, _Good luck,_ to Stanley, and before you know it, your shoes are crunching the snow beneath you. You can’t help yourself from continuing to gaze at the snowflakes floating around you while you walk. Watching it makes you feel oddly at peace.

You probably wouldn’t, if you knew what was watching _you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ILADLLU AOL ZUVDMSHRLZ ZVTLAOPUN'Z DHAJOPUN  
> ZVTLVUL'Z WSHU FVB TPNOA IL ISVJRPUN  
> KVLZU'A THAALY PM FVB PUALYMLYL  
> AOHA'Z VRHF; FVB'SS IL ZABJR OLYL.


End file.
